


When Pigs Fly

by Dreaming_in_Circles



Category: Snowpiercer (2013)
Genre: Angst, Curtis is full of pain, Drabble, Edgar is just happy, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Slash, but not really, kinda underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 16:49:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2435882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreaming_in_Circles/pseuds/Dreaming_in_Circles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curtis knows he's fucked. Saying no to Edgar? When pigs fly. Kissing him just once? Even more impossible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Pigs Fly

**Author's Note:**

> [curtisandedgar](http://curtisandedgar.tumblr.com/) posted [this](http://curtisandedgar.tumblr.com/post/97774647046/curtis-knows-hes-fucked-saying-no-to-edgar-when/) gifset and stole my heart and Curtis and Edgar feels. This is what happened because of it.  
>  Unfortunately un-beta'd, so I apologize for any mistakes. If you find one, have any constructive criticism, or just want to say 'hi,' please feel free to do so. I don't bit; well I might bit... (reference!). Thanks and enjoy!

“Come on, once. Just _once._ ” Edgar begs as they walk through the Train. Curtis shakes his head as they twist through the crowded, noisy passages.

“For the last time Edgar, no.” He doesn’t bother turning around, he can feel Edgar’s disappointment and frustration already. The noises of people shuffling around their bunks, and the Train’s rattles and creaks suddenly seem louder than normal when Edgar doesn’t respond. Curtis knows he should be happy, but Edgar had been arguing all morning, and the sudden silence sits heavy above him.

He lets himself drop onto his bunk and looks up at the man – _boy_ , he thinks to himself, then _fuck it_ – standing across from him. Edgar’s face is filthy with sweat and grim and even dried blood from a fight earlier, but under all that Curtis sees grey eyes and stark cheekbones and he sighs and shakes his head. Curtis knows he’s fucked. Saying no to Edgar? When pigs can fly. Not that there are any pigs left to even attempt it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, fine.” He says, his voice gruffer and more bitter than he really feels inside. He stops, looks away, scratches his head. The words don’t come easy. “But just once, okay?”

He his eyes track back to Edgar, who looks like he’s shocked that he’s getting what he wants but is trying very hard to not be smug about it. Curtis snorts in dry amusement.

“Come on, then.” Edgar says, fingers snatching at Curtis’ threadbare jacket to urge him up and forward. Curtis follows as Edgar winds his way back down the Train, back the way they came.

They duck into the dump near the back of the Train, a towering maze if unused barrels, boxes, shelves, and pipes. It’s darker and filthier than the rest of the Train, smelling of old urine and stale Kronol. But it’s secluded and private. Curtis knows they’re not the only ones to seek privacy here. He wonders if Edgar knows it too.

Edgar turns around once they’re safely hidden from view. He puts his hands on Curtis’ shoulders, not looking Curtis in the eye. His touch is soft, barely there, as he smoothes his hands down Curtis’ arms to just below his elbows, before lifting them up and hovering hesitantly over the side of Curtis’ neck. He looks unsure of what to do next; he looks almost as nervous as Curtis feels.

Edgar finally settles his hands on the back of Curtis’ neck, and the weight feels good. It feels good even when he reminds himself that these are Edgar’s hands; in fact, that almost makes it feel better. As wrong as that thought should be, it’s not. Everything is wrong on this Train, everything that is wrong feels right on this Train; it only makes sense that this would be on the list.

The Train rocks violently and there’s a noise behind them. Curtis turns quickly, sees only a fallen box of junk, knocked off a shelf by the unsteady Train. Edgar reaches up and cups his jaw gently, pulling Curtis to look at him and only him. He’s finally looking Curtis in the eye.

“Just-just pay attention to me, okay? Just to me?” Edgar asks, hesitant, quiet. Curtis can barely breathe, but he manages to nod. He can’t force the words out anymore.

Edgar leans forward – slowly, so slowly – and Curtis can hear the blood rushing in his ears. He closes his eyes and then feels Edgar’s lips on his. It’s sudden, sloppy, the Train jerks again and throws them off half-way through, and Curtis feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, but he also feels really good. As wrong as that should be.

He pulls away from the sloppy kiss, blinks once. His eyes move up to look at Edgar, but the boy catches him by surprise and presses their lips together again. It’s slightly more gentle this time, and the Train cooperates just a bit more. It’s sweet – almost too sweet – and Curtis feels like he’s drowning and flying at the same time.

Edgar grips the back of his neck tightly, almost painfully, tugging at the collar of his jacket. Curtis moves one hand from Edgar’s face to between his shoulder blades and slides it down his spine. An errant thought crosses his mind, that Edgar really is too skinny; Curtis can feel every one of his vertebrae.

Curtis forces himself to pull away. Edgar needs some room, he thinks; Edgar needs to breath. Curtis needs to breathe too, his breath coming in heaving gasps, but he feels like he could spend the rest of his life without oxygen as long as he could spend it kissing Edgar. Neither of them say anything, so they listen to the rattle of the Train and the quiet murmur of the people around them.

“Should I go?” Edgar whispers, and there’s hurt in his voice, but also resignation. He got what he wanted, what they agreed upon, Curtis supposes, and he should say ‘yes.’ He should tell Edgar to go.

But Curtis knows he’s fucked. Kissing Edgar just once? Impossible.

“I want you to stay.” He whispers, pushing his fingers into Edgar’s messy hair. Edgar jerks his head back, eyes jumping to meet Curtis’. There’s hope, so much hope in them that it almost breaks Curtis’ heart, because Edgar has no idea. Curtis doesn’t deserve this, any of it; and Edgar deserves so much more.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. I mean it.” _I’m going to regret it_ , Curtis adds in his head. “I do.”

Edgar grins, properly grins for the first time in what feels like forever, and wraps his arms around Curtis’ neck, pressing their bodies together. It takes Curtis a minute to realize Edgar is _hugging_ him. The motion is so foreign, he didn’t even recognized it.

Slowly, as if against his will, Curtis’ arms move and wrap around Edgar.

“Thank you.” Edgar whispers, so quiet that Curtis isn’t sure he’s meant to hear. So he just grips Edgar tighter, and swears to himself to never let go.


End file.
